For the Good Times

I have worked for a Company for several years. I know it's not the norm these days to feel like a part of an organization. But I do. This Company showed me the way out of poverty and taught me how to make a living. This Company paid for my honeymoon when I got married. This Company paid for the birth of my baby. And it's going to take care of me when I quit working, if I manage to live that long. (What? You think I don't work now? Neither does my wife.).

Don't look so sad, I know it's over.
But life goes on and this old world will keep on turning.
Let's just be glad we had some time to spend together.
There's no need to watch the bridges that we're burning.

One of the things you gain from working for a Company for a long time is one of the things that a lot of folks in this modern workplace are never going to be able to enjoy: That's the history and the people who made the Company. The Company I work for is over 110 years old, and I know all about it. I've met the folks who are the descendants of the folks who started the thing. And I've met one asshole for every 100 gentlemen.

Lay your head upon my pillow.
Hold your warm and tender body close to mine.
Hear the whisper of the rain drops flowing soft against the window,
And make believe you love me one more time.
For the good times.

One of the true gentlemen of this Company lives up in Northwest Arkansas. He opened up that territory a long time ago. This was the farthest Northeast reaches of a Company that had based itself in the Deep South, and he did a job like no one else could have done. He lived his life for the Company and the Company did him well. He and his lovely wife were present on several occasions at which I was also present. She was a wonderful lady. He is a wonderful guy.

I'll get along, you'll find another.
And I'll be here if you should find you ever need me.
Don't say a word about tomorrow or forever; There'll be time enough for sadness when you leave me.

When he retired, we were all at a Managers' Meeting in Atlanta, GA. The dinner meal was being served in a lavish dining hall with a band playing elevator music.

The guy in question had suffered through the death of his wife of a lifetime about 3 months previous. I'd never seen him so upset. He didn't drink. So he wasn't drunk when he did this. He walked up to the bandstand and asked if the band knew a song, and if he could sing it. They said they did. And he did.

Lay your head upon my pillow.
Hold your warm and tender body close to mine.
Hear the whisper of the rain drops flowing soft against the window,
And make believe you love me one more time. For the good times.

I don't think I've been quite that moved before or since. It was lovely. He sang the song, not all that badly, and went and sat down. Everyone knew who it was for, and what it meant. There was not a dry eye in the house.

I can only hope you love your wife or S/O as much as he did his. And for as many years.